


The Invasion

by elderwitty, squidgie



Series: Citrus Hill [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Series: Citrus Hill'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:08:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elderwitty/pseuds/elderwitty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'verse summary: AU. Rodney was bad at work, and has been exiled by SGC to a tiny town outside of Gainesville, Florida. This is the story of Rodney's time in Citrus Hill, a handsome guy named John who he meets under less-than-optimal circumstances, and how he learns a bit about life in the South.</p>
<p>Story summary: This story picks up immediately after "The Tour", and has our boys go through the ups and downs of their lives together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Invasion

Staring out at Earth with Rodney tucked in close, John repeats, "Oh crap."  He glances at a faintly frowning Samantha Carter before making a quick survey of the room until he's once again fixed on Rodney.  With a quick dope-slap, he remonstrates, "Why didn't you _tell me_ you were working on..."  His arms flail briefly before he sputters, "Outer-space stuff."

Rodney sticks his chin out and says, "Technically I'm _not_ working on an outer-space project.  My job is in Atlantis, which is in the Pegasus-"

"Hut-tut-tut!" Carter exclaims, drowning out Sheppard's faint, ' _Atlantis_?!'  "He hasn't signed the NDA yet."

Rolling his eyes, Rodney says, "C'mon, Sam.  He was in the Air Force.  I think he can keep a secret."

Sam takes a deep breath and reaches for her sense of calm.  "Rodney?  Radek needs you.  Go.  I'll deal with Sheppard."

"Fine," Rodney says, pulling John close.  "But he gets the royal treatment, okay?"

" _Royal treatment_? This is the Daedalus, not the Ritz Carlton."

"Whatever."  Rodney presses a quick kiss to John's lips.  "Don't let her boss you around.  It only leads to assignments in Siberia... And _you_ ," he says to Carter.  "Be nice to him.  When I come back, he'd better not even have a hair out of place."

Sam balks, "How could you _tell_?"

"Okay, I'll be back as soon as I can," Rodney says, snatching one more kiss.  "Ready."  Sam nod to one of the officers, who starts the beaming process.  Before he goes, Rodney mouths a word at John: Jethro!

"Oh, crap," John says for the third time in as many minutes, thinking about the hound they'd left lounging in their kitchen.  "I have to go get Jethro," he says, looking for the exit before remembering that it's not as simple as walking off the ship.

"Jethro?  I'm sorry, Mr. Sheppard, but you can't go anywhere until you sign a non-disclosure agreement.  Come with me," she says, reaching for his arm to guide him to her office.

"And I'm _not_ signing anything until I'm sure Jethro is safe.  With me." John plants his feet resolutely.

"I'm sorry," Sam says with a fixed smile, "but we're not beaming anybody else up tonight.  Not until you sign-"

"Jethro is my _dog_ ," John says, crossing his arms defiantly and leaving out the dogsitting part of the equation.  "And I'm not signing anything until I've got him here." 

Sam narrows her eyes.  "You _could_ spend your time in the brig, Mr. Sheppard."

"I really don't think Rodney would like that, Colonel Carter.   _Do_ _you_?" he smirks in a sickly sweet tone.

Sam sighs.  " _Fine_.  Corporal, get me the Marine who was supposed to be at McKay's house."

It takes ten minutes and some expert lock picking (they don't ask, so John doesn't reveal where the spare key is hidden.  He promises himself that if there's any damage to Rodney's rental - _his_ house - he'll be sending the bill to one Colonel Samantha Carter, care of the DOD) before John hears a 'woof' as two figures materialize on the bridge.

"Hey, buddy!" John says as Jethro saunters up to press against his legs.  Leaning down to scritch, he spots the trail that starts next to the Marine and ends just shy of Jethro.  "Sorry 'bout that," he says, blushing and rubbing the back of his neck.  "Happens sometimes when he gets over excited."

Carter rolls her eyes as she activates her comm, "I need a cleanup team to the Bridge."

~*~*~

Two hours later John's in the Captain's study, carefully reading every word of the seventy-three page NDA.  Jethro's snores and Carter's impatient tsking occasionally puncture the silence. 

"It's a standard NDA, Major," Carter says.  She'd learned more about his Air Force past while waiting for the document's arrival.  Her hopes that it would facilitate his signing had so far been without success.

"I know," John replies, "but I want to know _exactly_ what I'm signing.  Bobby Joe Turner's momma didn't lose her trailer for nothing," he says, letting a hint of _hick_ color his accent.

"I'm sorry?" Sam asks, clearly lost.

"Well, you see," John starts, leaning down to pat Jethro's flank.  He breaks off and gives her a wry chuckle.  "It's a long story.  Let's just say you shouldn't co-sign a loan if you've been at the moonshine."

Sam closes her eyes and shakes her head; she seems to be doing that a lot tonight.  As John reaches the last page, she asks, "So, will you sign the agreement, Major?"

"Sure," he says agreeably.  "You got a pen?  And, please - call me John."

With the NDA signed, John calls Cadman to arrange cover for tomorrow's recycling route and the garbage run on Tuesday. (When he pauses to wonder how cell towers work while he's _in space_ , Laura cackles that sex-related injuries aren't covered under the city's insurance.  John reminds her that he has private insurance, and says that she should see the other guy.)  Then John and Jethro are escorted to guest quarters, venturing out once when Jethro needs to water a console (due to a lamentable lack of bushes onboard).  After a couple more hours of confinement, he rouses Jethro and they step out, asking the first airman they meet for directions to the mess.

"You can't bring that _thing_ in here," a ponytailed man sneers when they enter the mess.  He's not very popular, judging by the immediate, universal protest that ensues.  "Colonel Carter, tell this man to get that mangy, diseased-ridden beast out of here."

"It's just a dog, Kavanagh," Carter points out as she pours a cup of coffee.

Jethro growls deep in his throat, earning himself an ear rub.  John assures the dog-hating weasel with a smirking, "He's harmless."

Kavanagh crosses his arms stubbornly and insists, "He should take this sickly animal and-"

When Kavanagh abruptly stops speaking and looks down, John sees Jethro christening his shoe.  He yelps, "Do something!"

John does.  He takes Kavanagh by the arms and gently steers him out of Jethro's stream, whereupon Kavanagh shakes his foot, flinging urine across the floor.  "Great," he says, "Now I probably have _rabies_."  Turning back to Carter, he demands, "He should be punished!"

Carter smiles tensely.  "What do you want me to do, Peter?  Court martial him?  Court martial _the dog_?  Besides, you can't get rabies from being peed on."

"He should at least pay for dry cleaning," Kavanagh whines, "and a new pair of shoes."

"Go change and take your stuff to the laundry, Kavanagh," Carter sighs, trying to hide her frustration.  "Which, by the way, is _free_."

Kavanagh glares at John, at Jethro, and then at Carter before stomping noisily out of the room.

"Sorry, Colonel," a clearly unrepentant John says, over the laughter of everyone in the mess.

Carter grins and pulls a roll from one of the warming trays.  She bends down (minding the puddle) and gives it to Jethro.  "Good dog," she says, scratching his ears and getting a crumb-filled kiss in return.

~*~*~  

Rodney gets back a little over eighteen hours later.  John wakes to him stumbling over the snoozing hound.  "Hey," Rodney says, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed. 

John stretches and pulls him closer.  "You save the day?"

Grabbing a quick kiss, Rodney smiles. "As always.  Things go okay?"

"Mostly.  Jethro peed on Carter's command chair."

"Really?" Rodney asks, beaming.

"Naw, just kidding," John laughs.  "But he _did_ make a puddle on the bridge.  And he peed on some asshole named Kavanagh for bitching about him being in the mess."

"Good boy," Rodney says, leaning down to pat the ancient animal.  Jethro quickly determines that Rodney has no treats to dispense and goes back to sleep.  "Someone's getting a nice juicy steak when we're back on Earth!"

"Speaking of Earth, when are we getting out of here?"

"Oh, anytime," Rodney replies.

"By the way," John says slyly, "Cadman thinks I got an injury during kinky sex."

"What?" Rodney asks, his expression wild.

"I had to say _something_ McKay.  Otherwise I would've had to tell her why I _really_ need the run covered this morning.

"Oh, crap," Rodney says.  "It's Monday.  Recycling day."

"It's okay.  Billy John Miller's ready to drive today and tomorrow, since I didn't know when we were going to get back.  It's-" he glances at his watch, "2pm back home.  If we can get back in the next few hours, I can do my regular route come mornin'."  He pauses, before leering, "But you know... we've got this room.  And I've never done it in space..."

"Well, _technically_ this isn't space.  It's actually more of a low-Earth orb-"

" _McKay_!" John growls, fisting Rodney's shirt.

Rodney smiles.  "I like how your mind works, John." 

They kiss, tongues teasing, until Rodney can't wait any more and pins John to the bunk, thrusting against him.  John runs his hands down Rodney's spine before sinking them into his back pockets and squeezing his ass.  There's a flicker of green light, but John dismisses it as Rodney leans in again.

Rodney stops, stuck mid-pucker in mid-air, and frowns at John quizzically.  He tries again, and is brought up short once more.

"What the _hell_?" Rodney demands.

"Damn, Rodney.  That _stung_ ," Sheppard says, rubbing his lips.

Rodney jumps up to rifle through his pockets and eventually pulls out an object the size of a dinner roll - if dinner rolls glowed green.  "John?"

"What's going on, Rodney?  What is _that_?" 

The green haze springs up again when Jethro's wagging tail hits Rodney's leg.

"Zelenka's gonna kill me," Rodney mutters as he studies the object.  Taking a deep breath he says, "Okay, let's calm down."

"Rodney, I _am_ calm.  But you need to tell me what the _hell_ is going on!"

"Okay, so, I want you to _think_ 'off'."

"What the hell, McKay?  What do you mean, 'think off'?"

"Off, _off_ \- like you'd turn off a light.  Just _do_ it, okay?"

John closes his eyes and thinks, "Off, off off!"  When he opens them, the dinner roll is no longer glowing and Rodney is staring at him dazedly.

Rodney stands next to the bed muttering, "Shit!" and "Damn it!" for a good minute before he gestures for John to get up.  "We have to go."

"Go?  Where?" 

"Just...  Just trust me," Rodney implores.

John gets up and grabs Jethro's leash.  "No, leave him here," Rodney says.  "The cold weather'll make his arthritis act up."

"Yeah," John agrees.  "Wait.  Cold?  Where the hell are we going?  Rodney?!"

Rodney drags John through the corridors, ignoring his sputtered questions.  "Sam?" he calls when they get to the bridge.

"McKay," Sam says.  "Ready to get this one home?"

"Yeah, um... About that.  Can you beam us down to Antarctica base first?"

"Antarctica?" John and Carter say in stereo.  "I'm not sending you and your boyfriend to Antarctica, McKay.  This isn't a double-decker tour bus."

"It's important, Sam" Rodney pleads.  "Just trust me on this."

Sam shakes her head.  "Sorry, McKay.  I'm going to need something more than your 'trust me'."

Clearly exasperated, Rodney pulls the personal shield from his pocket and puts it against John's shirt.  "Think 'on'."

John complies and is suddenly encased in a flickering green field.

Snapping his fingers, Rodney commands, "Kick him."  Carter rolls her eyes instead.  Exasperated, he points at Dr. Novak, whose engineering report their arrival had interrupted.  "You do it, Lindsey."

With only a slight hesitation, Lindsey Novak tries to kick Sheppard in the shin.  She's repulsed and there's a flare of brighter green. "See?" Rodney crows, ignoring Novak's pained grimace as she hobbles away.  "Sheppard's got the ATA gene.  And a pretty strong expression of it, I suspect," he adds while poking green circles into life on the shield.  He motions to John, who thinks 'off' and catches the device as it detaches from his shirt.

"Okay, then," Carter concedes, "Antarctica it is."

"Thanks, Sam.  I owe you one."

"You still owe _me_ an explanation, Rodney," John says, pouting when Rodney dismisses him with an airy wave.

Carter makes a show of visually searching the bridge.  "You sure you don't need to take your dog along?"  She nods to a Lieutenant.  "You've got six hours, McKay." 

John hardly has time to blink before he and Rodney re-materialize somewhere that feels like a walk-in freezer.

"What the hell, Rodney?" John demands as he looks around the chilly room, crossing his arms tightly to hold onto as much heat as he can.  "Are we _really_ in Antarctica?  _Why_?"

"This way," Rodney says, seemingly oblivious to the temperature as he hauls John along by one arm.  Rodney barrels by the few people they meet with no explanation until he finds the base commander and barks a few words at him.  The commander joins them as Rodney rushes headlong into another frigid room, this one featuring a weird Art Nouveau chair.  Rodney gestures towards it and commands John to sit down.

"No!" John growls.  "Not until you tell me what this is all about."

"Trust me, Sheppard.  Just...Here."  Rodney pushes John into the chair, which reclines and lights up under him.  There’s a hum he can feel almost in his bones, and he nearly misses Rodney's instruction to, "Think of where we are in the universe."  John does as he's told, and is suddenly in the middle of a hologram depicting the Milky Way.

"Did I do that?" John asks, possibly enjoying Rodney's gobsmacked expression just a _bit_ too much.

~*~*~

"I don't care _what_ crazy gene I have, Rodney," John says, for what feels like the thousandth time since returning to the Daedalus.  "I have responsibilities.  I need to get home in the next," checking his watch, "20 minutes if I'm gonna call Bobby Joe before eight, get to bed, and take the Tuesday trash run."

"What, do the Citrus Hick phone lines shut down at eight o'clock?"

"No, Rodney," John says with obviously thinning patience, "but in _polite_ society it's considered rude to call any later than that."

"Come _on_ , Sheppard.  You're not getting it," Rodney retorts.  "This is big.  Historically, _monumentally_ big!  More important than any trash pickup."

John resorts to the tone he saves for telemarketers and Alachua County pencil pushers.  "I made a commitment to the people of Citrus Hill, McKay."  John spits Rodney's last name like a missile.  "They're more important to me than technology or some mythical city."

"Yeah, but-" Rodney sputters, as John turns on his heel and strides away.  "Sheppard!"

John returns to the guest quarters and collects Jethro.  "Come on, boy," John says, leading the sleepy animal to the bridge.

Once there, John ignores Rodney and addresses the Colonel.  Giving her a solid, albeit slightly rusty salute, he announces, "Ready to return to Earth, ma'am."

" _Fine_ ," Rodney says as he stands beside him, then nods to Sam.

The two bicker through the beam-out process.  Rather, Rodney bickers while John rolls his eyes at Rodney's continued harangue. 

"You don't realize what an incredible opportunity you're _wasting_ , Sheppard," Rodney says.  John's noticed that since the incident with the shield, Rodney refers to him as "Sheppard" instead of "John," which doesn't sit well with him.

"Whatever," John says dismissively. 

" _Whatever_? What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Rodney spits when they materialize in his living room, where sunset is peeking through the front window.

"Rodney," John says, clenching his teeth and putting a hand to Rodney's chest.  "When you're ready to listen to me-"

"I _am_ listening to you," Rodney protests with a defiant chin.

After giving him a long, considering onceover, John says, "No, you're not.  You're _yelling_ at me."  He starts Jethro walking towards the back door, "When you're ready to _listen_ ," he adds, "come talk to me."

"Sheppard," Rodney calls, but John doesn't stop.  He drives home with his mind whirling; thoughts of ancient cities, secret Antarctic bases, and genetic mutations dominating.

~*~*~

Rodney stomps around the house for the better part of an hour before he decides to go to bed.  He's sure John will come to his senses soon and show up so they can talk this out.  Like adults.

"Yeah, right," Rodney grumps, stomping back from brushing his teeth.  He throws the curtains closed and settles into his big bed, alone.

~*~*~

John enters his house to the accompaniment of Jethro's nails and jangling tags.  He's spent most of his time at Rodney's lately, so there isn't much in the way of food, but at least there's coffee.  Thanks to the 25-minute drive home it's too late to call Billy John, so he starts a pot and steps into his backyard, taking a deep breath to dislodge the uneasy feeling he's had since the argument started on board the Daedalus.

Truth be told, he _is_ curious about those things.  About the special gene.  About the ancient technology.  About Atlantis.  About the gate-ships Rodney dangled in front of him - saying that nobody on Atlantis knows how to fly them all that well.  But he can't uproot himself from Citrus Hill like Rodney wants; there are people here who depend on him.  Rodney has to see that.

John activates the answering machine on his way to the kitchen.  He listens to a message from someone from Alachua County's administrative offices about a meeting later in the week.  He rolls his eyes, thinking how inconsequential property lines and county acquisition of land seem when there's an entire new galaxy that he could be part of.

"Fuck."  He pours himself a cup of coffee.  Sipping the scalding brew on the way to his bedroom doesn't clear his mind any, so he abandons it on the bedside table and buries his head under a pillow.

~*~*~

At 4am, after hours of fitful dozing, Rodney gives up on getting any quality sleep.  All morning, he's sure his phone is going to ring any minute; that John will have come to his senses and want more information about Atlantis and Pegasus.  But minutes stretch to hours, then to half a day, and suddenly it's 2pm.  Rodney decides to make his move, since John is obviously too pig-headed.  He's accelerating toward the guinea fowl in his driveway when it hits him that he doesn't have a clue where John lives.

John always comes here.  He's even left clothes and a toothbrush (along with a jar of industrial strength hair taming gel, which Rodney teases him unmercifully about). 

He thinks about it while watching the bird flap its evil carcass into his tree, but can only remember that John lives somewhere near downtown.  He considers going to City Hall and waiting for John.  But if this is one of John's "light-duty" weeks, he mightn't show up for days. 

Rodney knows what he has to do.  Growling in frustration, he stomps back to the house and dials a number he resents having memorized.

"Citrus Hill City Hall, this is Laura."

"Cadman, hey," Rodney says flatly. 

Laura groans.  "Ugh, McKay.  What do you want?"

"Well, believe it or not...  I need John's address."

"What the hell, McKay?" Laura asks incredulously.  "You're _sleeping_ with him and you don't know where he _lives_?"

Rodney grimaces and squeezes the receiver, imagining it's Cadman's neck.  Righting the phone, he says "That's right, Cadman.  He's only ever come here."  After a long moment of silence, he snaps, "Look, can I just get his address?"

Laura's hums a bit, then asks in a singsong voice, "What's it worth to you?"

" _What_?"

"C'mon," she says.  "What'll you give me for it?"

Rodney narrows his eyes and offers, "How about I do a little hacking and turn off your power, your gas, your cable..."

"Kkkkkkppppttttt...  I'm sorry, McKay, you're breaking up there.  I can _barely_ hear you.  You wanna try again?"

Rodney gives in.  "Fine," he sighs, defeated.  "Dinner for you and your football guy.  Any restaurant.  On me."

" _Now_ we're talking," Laura says, and he can hear her grin through the phone.  "A bottle of wine, too?"

"Yes, yes, whatever," Rodney concedes.  "Just give me his address."

"A _good_ bottle," she adds.

" _Cadman_!"

"Fine, fine," she says, "but only because I sent him home early today for moping all over the place. You gotta pen?" 

~*~*~

Bernice des Plaines pulls out of the storage yard and tops up the schoolbus at the gas station to prepare for the afternoon runs.  She traverses the railroad tracks, crossing herself as she does so.  She hates driving over them, even though the train hardly ever comes through these days.

The high school lets out first, and she makes the familiar run, getting the kids home safely.  She circles back to pick up the middle and elementary school kids, smiling as she thinks about JoeJoe waiting for her at daycare.  As soon as her second run is done she can fetch him and start their afternoon playtime.

Two blocks from the school she turns left onto a downtown street.  She doesn't see the DHL truck barreling down the alley, the driver distracted by his ringing cell phone.  She catches movement in her peripheral vision and looks over to see the truck approaching at breakneck speed.  There's a shriek of metal crumpling, pain, the patter of broken glass, the blare of a horn, then nothing.

~*~*~

John looks up from his kitchen counter and watches Rodney park.  The scientist sits in the car for a minute before getting out, then pauses on the porch, like he's debating whether to knock or not.  His mind obviously made up, he pounds on the door and yells, "John, I know you're in there.  Your truck's in the driveway!"

John opens the door to a grimacing Rodney and rolls his eyes, "C'mon in."

Jethro woofs as Rodney obeys.  "You know I had to call _Cadman_ to get your address?  I hope you appreciate my sacrifice."

John laughingly says, "What?  But...you've been here before."

"Nope.  Not even once.  You've only ever been to my place."

"Huh," John says.  "Why didn't you just call and ask?"

Rodney studies the floor, his shoes; anything but John.  "I wasn't sure you'd pick up," he confesses.

"Look," John says, reaching out to lay a hand on Rodney's shoulder.  "I was just frustrated.  You wouldn't _listen_ to me."

"I know, I know...  But...  Just hear me out," Rodney says.  Before he can start on his, undoubtedly lengthy and possibly annotated, list of reasons to go to Atlantis, the phone rings.

John gives Rodney the _just a moment_ gesture.  "Sheppard."

"John, this is Officer Sumpter."

"Hey, Gerry," he says, concerned by his formal tone.  "Everything okay?"

"There's been an accident downtown.  It's Miss des Plaines."

John feels the blood rush from his face.  "Is she all right?"

"We're not sure yet," comes the reply.  "A delivery truck broadsided her.  The good news is that the bus was empty; she was coming back for her second run.  But she's unconscious, and we're having to cut her out."

"I'll be right there," John says, already moving. 

"What's wrong?" Rodney demands.  John doesn't respond, just pushes Rodney towards his pickup and clambers in.  Rodney follows suit and puts his seatbelt on.  "John, what's going on?"

"It's Bernice," he says.  "She's been in an accident."

"JoeJoe?" Rodney asks after a stunned moment.

John pats his hand.  "JoeJoe's at daycare until after her run, so he should be okay."

Rodney nods, turning his attention back to the road as Sheppard guns the engine, laying a hand on his upper thigh a second later.  John covers Rodney's hand with his, squeezing it for strength.

~*~*~

They arrive to find one whole block of downtown cordoned off.  John knows that they've only ever used the barricades for parades; it must be bad to warrant their being here.  He abandons his truck in the nearest free spot and barely waits for Rodney as he races toward the scene.

John threads through the onlookers 'til he sees Officer Sumpter.  "Gerry?"

Officer Gerald Sumpter of the Florida State Patrol turns and gives John a hint of a smile as John tries to avoid fixating on the accident's aftermath.  There's broken glass and blood on the hood of the delivery truck and several officers standing next to a tarp-covered body, the driver having been thrown through his windshield.  He glances at the school bus and closes his eyes.  Though he's not a religious man, he says a quick prayer and takes comfort in Rodney's arm around him.  "Bernice?" John asks through the ache in his chest.

"She's awake and alert.  Just came to a few minutes ago," Sumpter says, patting John's free arm.  "We'll have her out in a bit.  Looks like she's got a broken leg, maybe a fractured pelvis.  Concussion.  The paramedics stabilized her neck and back, just in case, but I think she's gonna be all right, John."

"Okay," John grits out, grateful for Rodney's grounding presence.

After anxious minutes watching the rescue effort, John sees Rodney pulling out a scrap of paper and begging a pen off of one of the passersby.  "Okay.  Hey," he says, pulling John away from his morbid thoughts.  "You're gonna have to call the school and tell them to have the parents come get their kids since there's no bus, right?"

John nods slowly.  "Yeah."

"What else?"

John ponders for a moment before ticking things off.  "We need to arrange a half a dozen teachers at each school to stay with the kids whose parents can't get them until after work.  The principal's gonna bitch at me, but we have some money in the rainy day fund to pay for the overtime."  Rodney makes hurried notes in his scrawling hand.  "Laura needs to call Alachua County for a loaner school bus, and see if Widow Thayer can cover Bernice's route.  Somebody should call Bonnie Mae at Allstate to come down and file a claim so we can start the process to get a replacement bus.  We'll probably need to have a special PTA meeting later this week, too.  Okay, what else?"

"Sheppard?" Officer Sumpter calls, snapping John's attention back to the bus.  "They're pullin' her out now."

John knows he should stay back, but he grabs Rodney and drags him closer, anxious to get a look at his friend.  "It looks a lot worse than it is, son," one of the volunteer firemen says, though with the blood and the traction device around Bernice's neck, he's not sure how much worse it _could_ look.  He can hear her talking over the rumble of fire engines and rescue workers, and sees her eyes dart toward him.

"John?" she calls out, and John pushes his way to her side. 

"I'm here, Bernice," he says, gripping her delicate hand, jogging alongside as the rescue team rolls the gurney to the waiting ambulance. 

"I need you to get JoeJoe from daycare for me.  And call my momma up in Fayetteville.  She can come down and take care of him."

"I will," John promises as they lift her into the ambulance.  "We'll bring JoeJoe by tonight, okay?"

"Please don't," she objects.  "I don't want him to see me like this.  It'll upset him."  She hisses as her leg is jostled, and again when the paramedic starts an IV line.  "Bring him tomorrow, okay?"

John nods and says, "Okay."

"John?" she adds, "Bring crayons so he can color on my cast."  She manages a weak smile before giving her attention to the paramedic who's asking about possible allergies.

The doors close before John can reply, and the ambulance speeds off.

John numbly walks back to Rodney and finds him on his cell phone. 

"Yeah, he said, Bonnie Mae down at Allstate?" Rodney's saying.  John realizes that Rodney's talking to Laura, putting the wheels into motion to handle the crisis.  "Thanks, Laura," Rodney says, and John smiles to hear Rodney use the correct first name for once.  "Hold on a second.  Anything else you need her to do?" he asks John.  When John shakes his head, Rodney says his goodbyes and hangs up.

John takes Rodney's hand in his as they walk back to his truck, giving it a gentle squeeze and pressing a kiss on the knuckles.  "Thanks, Rodney," he says sincerely.

Rodney smiles reassuringly before splitting off to get in the passenger side.

John surveys the cab, judging how much space the bench seat affords.  "Problem?" Rodney asks.

"I have to get Bernice's spare car seat before we pick up JoeJoe."  He puts the truck in gear to drive to her house, just a couple of blocks over.  "I hate that thing.  I can _never_ get it in here without a struggle."

Rodney rolls his eyes.  "Hello?  Engineer!" he says, pointing to himself.

John raises an eyebrow.  "You're an astrophysicist, Rodney," John says, pulling into Bernice's driveway.

"Yeah, but my undergrad was in engineering.  Piece of cake," Rodney promises.

John nods, saying, "If you say so."  He waves at a neighbor as he walks in the unlocked side door.  After calling Bernice's mother with the news, he comes back out carrying a well-used car seat, which he hands to Rodney with a flourish.

Twenty-five minutes later, he's enjoying both Rodney's tirade (filled with phrases to make a sailor blush) and the sight of his ass bobbing up and down in frustration as he tries to get the car seat anchored.  "You need some help there, buddy?"

Rodney turns around to glare daggers at him.  "Who designed this piece of garbage?  Quasimodo?"

John smiles helpfully and goes around to the other side of the truck.  With a little cooperation, and a lot more swearing - during which Rodney offers to trash the useless thing and let JoeJoe ride in his lap and John declines with a stern look - the seat is finally safely anchored in the truck.  They take off to the daycare to pick up their charge.  As they head inside, John says, "Oh, I forgot to tell you.  Bernice's mom can't get here before the weekend..."

Rodney shrugs.  "And?  I already figured we were watching JoeJoe."

"Okay..." John says.  It seems their disagreement has been shelved in favor of Rodney helping however he can. 

John and Rodney walk in and immediately catch the eye of Teyla Emmagan, owner of Teyla's Tots.  John smiles at her as JoeJoe yells something that sounds like 'Unca John!' even as he runs pell-mell into Rodney's legs and raises his arms to be picked up.

While Rodney and JoeJoe distract each other, John accepts Teyla's embrace, patting her arm in awkward acknowledgement of her sympathy and worried expression.

"How is she, John?"

"She looked okay when they took her from the scene.  Broken leg, maybe a fractured pelvis, and a concussion."

"And the other driver?" Teyla asks.  "I see," she says when John just looks at the ground and shuffles side to side.  "If you need, I can cancel my self-defense classes and keep JoeJoe.  My students will understand - many of them have been her passengers."

"No, no, it's okay," John demurs.  "I can look after JoeJoe for a few days.  His grandmother will be down by Saturday, so we should be fine."  He looks over to discover that JoeJoe has convinced Rodney to sit in an impossibly small chair to show off his favorite daycare toys, and smiles fondly at the unlikely pair.

"Do not forget to call me if you need any assistance, John," Teyla says, embracing him again.  "And remember, we are all here to help.  I'm sure everyone will be willing to pitch in, wherever necessary."

John nods appreciatively.  "Thanks, Teyla."  He grabs JoeJoe from behind, tucking him under one arm.  "Come on, buddy.  You get to have a sleepover with your Uncle John tonight," he says as he settles him on one hip, nuzzling his hair. 

"Hey, what about me?" Rodney says, waving to Teyla as he opens the door for John and JoeJoe. 

John whispers to JoeJoe, "What do you think, buddy?  Should we let Rodney come to our sleepover, too?"

JoeJoe seriously considers the matter, looking at Rodney with his curly head cocked to one side before shaking it and crowing, "Yeah, yeah, yeah!"

John grins at the his enthusiasm as he starts strapping him into the car seat.  "You sure you want to, Rodney?" John asks as Rodney gets in and fastens his seatbelt.  "What about your work?"

"I saved their as-- I mean butts once this week," he says, catching himself just in time.  "They can look after themselves for a couple of days."

John stretches his arm out along the seat back so he can keep contact with Rodney.  He's struck with a warm feeling of family and togetherness, if a hyperactive astrophysicist boyfriend and a borrowed toddler can be called family.  After stopping at City Hall to grab John's work laptop, they drive to his place while JoeJoe gives them a two-year-old's recounting of the day.

John parks on the street because the driveway is strangely full of cars.  JoeJoe lets John unbuckle him, but insists on being carried by Rodney.  They find the house bustling with people and smelling of home-cooked food.  John stops in confusion when he spots his assistant in his kitchen.

"You're wondering what we're all doing here, I bet.  Well," Laura says, her eyes sliding to Rodney, "I know you haven't been home much lately, so I organized a quick potluck.  Since you're gonna be busy with the little one, and all." John looks around at Laura, Skeeter, Miss Melanie, Clarice, Johnny, and countless other friends and neighbors, and the spread of food that's covering every available counter, and can't think of a thing to say to adequately express his gratitude.  Rodney puts JoeJoe down, where he immediately makes a beeline for the pile of toys in the living room.  "Oh, yeah," Laura adds, "Rodney asked if I could bring some stuff for JoeJoe to play with while he's here."

John's chest is warm and a bit achy, and his throat is tight, so he stretches out an arm and pulls Rodney into a hug.  "Thanks," he says, looking into Rodney's soulful blue eyes, then turns to the crowd and says, "Really, everyone... I.  Just - thanks..."

There's a festive atmosphere in the crowd, though John can sometimes barely hide the distress he feels thinking about Bernice in the hospital.  A few well-wishers offer to take JoeJoe off his hands, but he declines.  He watches his friends mingle and picks at the plate Miss Melanie fixed him, though he's less hungry and more contemplative about his life.

Rodney takes John's mostly untouched plate and stashes it on the counter, then leads him out into the backyard.  They stare out into the twilight for a few minutes before Rodney puts his arm around John and pulls him in.  "You okay?"

John leans into the hug, planting a kiss on Rodney's shoulder.  "Yeah."

A fidgeting Rodney juts his chin out and asks, "So, is or was Bernice..."  His eyes convey something along the lines of 'more than just a friend?'

"Oh, no," John says.  "No, no no...  She...  She's like a sister to me."  He scratches the back of his neck absently, prompting Rodney to pull him in closer.  "We've been best friends since grade school.  Pretty much inseparable.  When she got dumped, I was her date to the junior prom."  John smiles in recollection.  "You know how most high school guys can only think about ending the night, drunk and in a motel room with their date?"

Rodney nods.  "Well," John says, leaning back into Rodney's hold, "we ended up at old Miller's Pond, just talking.  First thing she asked was...  Was when I was going to come out to her?"

"She knew?"

Smiling, John nods.  "Yup.  She figured it out before _I_ did.  She even dared me to ask Tommy Bullinger to dance the next year at senior prom."  John's smile fades in the failing light.  "God, I hated seeing her like that today..."

"Well, you know she's going to be okay," Rodney says, "You heard Miss Melanie talking to the surgeon who's going to set her leg."  Rodney squeezes John one last time before turning them toward the house.  "We'll take JoeJoe to see her tomorrow."

John pulls Rodney to a halt.  "Listen, Rodney.  I know this isn't what you signed up for.  You have your own life.  Your own work.  Really, _really_ important work," he says, thinking of Atlantis, Pegasus, and his own genetic gift.  "I can't ask you to put your life on hold for me."

Rodney smiles sweetly before he dope-slaps John (garnering a stifled laugh from Laura, who's standing guard just inside the French doors).  "Our lives are pretty much entwined right now," Rodney says, "and I wouldn't change a thing.  So we're on babysitting duty for a few days - so what?  It can't be any harder than watching Jethro."

Looking into Rodney's eyes, sparkling with reflections of the fast-rising full moon, John murmurs, "Thanks, Rodney," taking his hand as they walk back into the house.

John retrieves his plate and takes it into the living room to watch JoeJoe play while he eats.  Rodney makes small talk with Skeeter (John's sure Rodney's trying to talk him into adding something highly caloric to the menu) for a few minutes.  Caught up in JoeJoe's antics, John doesn't notice Rodney walking toward him 'til he feels a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, I'm gonna run by my house and get some stuff.  You need anything?"

"I'm good," John says.  "Here.  Your car's blocked in, so take my truck."

"You're letting him drive your _truck_?" Laura calls from the kitchen.  "He must have it bad, McKay.   _I'm_ not even allowed to drive his truck!"

"Oh, whatever," Rodney says, trying to hide his grin at John's discomfiture.  He leans down to grab a kiss, then heads out into the evening.

~*~*~

Over the next hour, people say their goodbyes and leave.  John waits for Rodney to return and gets JoeJoe ready for bed.  Bath time is an adventure in itself - John's not sure how a two-year-old (who spent most of the day inside) accumulated so much dirt, but it's there, lurking under the six-inch layer of bubbles that JoeJoe insisted on.  He's just about to take JoeJoe out when he realizes that he didn't grab any clothes at Bernice's.  He's debating putting the clean toddler into one of his t-shirts when he hears Rodney clamor into the house.

"Back here, Rodney," he calls, but there's no answer.  He hears Rodney make a couple more trips, grunting and gruffing loudly.

Rodney finally appears at the bathroom door, laden with overflowing plastic bags.  "Here," he says, handing one over. 

Checking out the bag, John sees Rodney did more than go home.  "Somebody went to Wal-Mart," he drawls, pulling out a pack of superhero underwear and footie pajamas with racecars all over them.  Smiling, he pulls Rodney down to kiss his thanks.

"Well, you know," Rodney says, blushing to the tips of his ears.  "He needed a few things.  Also, I got some educational toys."  He laughs as JoeJoe splashes John with water and bubbles.  "After all, we have a fresh young mind to mold."

"We've only got him until Saturday, McKay," John says, hauling the squealing and giggling child out of the water. 

"Plenty of time to start my work."

"Your very own evil minion, Rodney?"

"Absolutely not."  Rodney dismisses the thought with a wave.  "How can a superhero have evil minions?"

John cocks an eyebrow as he dresses JoeJoe, laughing when Rodney pulls a cape from behind his back.  JoeJoe gapes at Rodney like he hung the moon, before running to him and turning around.  He stands still only long enough for Rodney to tie the cape around his neck and then he's off like a shot, zooming around the house with his arms stretched out in front of him.

John pulls the stopper and stands up to give McKay a somewhat damp hug.  "Thanks, Rodney."  They watch as JoeJoe jumps off the arm of the couch in an effort to get airborne.  "Although…you may have created a monster," he chuckles.

John puts JoeJoe to bed in the guest room, but it isn't long before he starts whimpering for his mom.  Rodney leans out of the bathroom, toothpaste foaming, to find John tucking JoeJoe in in the middle of their bed.  JoeJoe falls asleep almost instantly and John joins Rodney, playfully jostling for a spot at the sink.

Teeth brushed and all pre-bedtime activities taken care of (including goodnight kisses since JoeJoe will be between them), they get into bed.  John switches out the light and turns to gaze at Rodney over the tiny being between them.  "Thanks, Rodney.  For everything."

Rodney juts out his chin, a mannerism that usually precedes a profound announcement.  "You know, John... About Atlantis and the gene and all-"

" _Rodney_ ," John cuts him off.

"No, hear me out," Rodney pleads.  John sinks back into his pillow and puts a protective arm over JoeJoe.  "I get it now," Rodney says.  "You have a life here.  And I had no right to ask you to uproot that on a moment's notice."  He absently twirls one of JoeJoe's curls around a finger.  "I'm sorry I tried to strong-arm you.  If you decide to help us-  Help  _them -_ it'll be on your terms.  Not mine.  Not the IOA's.  Not the military's.  Yours."

John leans over the child, guiding Rodney's mouth up to meet a kiss that he hopes conveys what he's feeling, since he certainly can't articulate it.

"Now, let's get some sleep," Rodney says contentedly, snuggling into his pillow.  "This one'll probably be up at the crack of dawn."  Almost before John realizes it, Rodney joins JoeJoe in sleep, and Jethro's snoring at the foot of the bed (somehow he's the loudest of the three).  He smiles at the unforeseeable turns his life has taken, and closes his eyes to welcome slumber.

~*~*~

John throws an arm out, then opens his eyes to discover that's he's alone.  He jumps up in alarm and rushes into the den, where he finds JoeJoe watching an educational DVD and Rodney typing away on his laptop.  "Izzair coffee?"

"'Is there coffee?'  What do you take me for - a barbarian?" Rodney fetches John a cup of deep, rich brew.  "There's  _good_ coffee.  I bought it last night.  I couldn't trust that you wouldn't have..." Rodney shudders, "Folgers, or something even  _worse_."

John makes a mental note to throw out his Sanka Instant before Rodney finds it.  He rewards Rodney's good deeds with a chaste kiss before diving into his coffee.  "Mmmm," he moans.  "This  _is_  good."

"Yeah, who knew Wal-Mart carries good coffee?"

Skeeter shows up a few minutes later to drop off two orders of John's favorite breakfast, along with eggs, toast, and other tidbits for JoeJoe.  The three eat breakfast in the den, where JoeJoe divides his attention between the meal and his new DVD while John and Rodney make eyes at each other.

~*~*~

JoeJoe slides into John and Rodney's lives with few adverse effects - unless you count John taunting Rodney with hints of tanned and furry flesh as he gets out of the shower, or dipping a hand into Rodney's back pocket while they make dinner, or dealing with the endless questions of a two-year-old.  John excuses himself from most city meetings to stay with JoeJoe, and takes him along to those he can't get out of.  Rodney works on both of his laptops, though at a less demanding pace than usual. 

They make daily visits to the hospital.  JoeJoe and his gigantic box of (Rodney-purchased) crayons go to town on the long white canvas of Bernice's full leg cast.  John finally allows himself to believe that she's going to be okay, and is pleased to learn that she'll be released on Saturday, just in time for her mother's arrival. 

On Thursday they get a telegram from the Pembertons, reminding John that they'll be back late Saturday night, and expect to see him on Sunday.  Rodney spends fifteen minutes expressing his disbelief that anyone still uses the antiquated telegram system, concluding that he should have expected it in such a hick backwater.  John is finally forced to silence his rant with a series of kisses.

~*~*~

John wakes up Friday morning to the blaring of the television and pries his eyes open to find himself alone with Rodney.  He leans over for a quick kiss before going to survey the inevitable damage, but Rodney sleepily pulls him in.  John rubs his morning erection against Rodney's hip, then bites a nipple through his t-shirt, bringing him fully awake in an instant.

"Oh,  _hello_!"

John grinds into Rodney once more before saying cheerfully, "Hold that thought about 36 hours, okay?"  Rodney gives him a disgruntled grunt and thwaps him with a pillow as he climbs out of bed.

John brews a pot of strong coffee to coax Rodney out of bed, and they make breakfast out of eggs and leftovers.  They're all stuffed and have just about agreed on lazing around the den all day, when JoeJoe starts doing the pee-pee dance.  John grabs the boy, silently thanking Bernice for early potty training, but has only taken two steps when there's a knock at the door.

"Food?" Rodney asks from the depths of the couch.  "I hope it's Miss Melanie with another casserole," he says wistfully.

John diverts to the door with a squirming JoeJoe on his hip.  He opens it, finding a silver-haired man in dress blues staring back at him. 

"Can I help you," John says, eyes flicking to the man's insignia, "General?"

"Colonel John Sheppard?"

John blinks.  "I was a Major when I left the Air Force, sir," he corrects.  "What can I do for you, sir?" he asks as he situates the wiggling toddler again, fighting the urge to salute.  Damn muscle memory.

"Mind if I come in?" the man asks, even as he brushes past Sheppard.

"Rodney's in there," John says, pointing.

"Actually, I'm here for you.  General Jack O'Neill," he says, extending a hand.  He nods to the scientist as he enters the den. "McKay." 

"What the hell are  _you_  doing here, O'Neill?" Rodney sputters. 

"I heard that your boyfriend here has a pretty good expression of the ATA gene."  With a look between the two of them, he says, "I'm here to make him a deal."

John looks at Rodney and then eyes O'Neill suspiciously, "O-kay."

"Here, let me," O'Neill says, holding his arms out.

"I was just taking him to the bathroom, sir," John says. 

O'Neill drops his hands hurriedly and says, "Dismissed, soldier!"

John hears Rodney and the General making awkward small talk, ducking out of the bathroom a few times to keep tabs on them.  As he comes back into the den with JoeJoe hot on his heels, he asks McKay, "What's this all about?"

Rodney shakes his head feverishly, promising, "I had nothing to do with this, John.  Honest."  John believes him, because Rodney is the worst liar he's ever come across.

"Carter told me what happened on the Daedalus.  Told me about your ATA gene, too, Colonel Sheppard."

"It's still  _Major_ , sir.  And I'm retired."

"We'll discuss that later.  Anyway, the Joint Chiefs asked me to invite you to re-enlist on a temporary basis." 

"I'm afraid I'm in violation of code, sir," John explains, laying a kiss on Rodney. 

"Sheppard," O'Neill says, blowing out a breath.  "Are you going to fuck Rodney in front of the enlisted?"

John and Rodney both shush him, indicating the small child, who looks around gleefully before chanting 'fuck' at the top of his lungs until John quells him with a look.  "I mean, are you and Rodney going to have  _relations,_ " he says, air-quoting the words, "in front of the Marines?"

"No, sir."

"Well, then," O'Neill says.  "I think things'll be just fine.  Besides, the SGC has special dispensation since Atlantis is an international mission.  Anyway, the repeal of DADT is winding its way through Congress as we speak.  But still, no fu-  I mean, none of that stuff in front of the enlisted, Sheppard.  And not in front of the other scientists, either - they'll get jealous. 

"Can they do that?" John asks, and Rodney nods. 

O'Neill says, "We've got a few people on our side."

"I don't know what I can do to help out, sir," John says.  "I have a life here.  With Rodney.  I'm responsible for a bunch of people here.  And I have duties as the mayor."

"And I'm a two-star General.  How hard can it be to run a town of 5,000 people?"  After a beat, he pronounces, "By order of the Joint Chiefs of the United States of America, I am hereby calling you back to active duty, with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel.  I'll be manning the post here in your stead for a couple of weeks."  Ignoring the looks John and Rodney are shooting each other, he asks, "So.  How's the fishing around here?"

John turns to Rodney, who's buried his face in his hands.  "Well, sir, I'm not much of a fisherman, so you'll need to ask someone else.  But that'll have to wait until after you run the City Council meeting next Wednesday night, and the meeting with Alachua County the following afternoon to discuss the upcoming highway project.    Oh, and the special PTA and school board meetings to talk about the accident and the new school bus.  Plus, you'll need to fill in for Bobby Dale Winnemaker on tree-trimming duty next Thursday and Friday since he's out with the chickenpox.  Then there's the recycling run Monday morning, and the garbage run on Tuesdays.  See, sir, I also own the garbage and recycling company here in town, not to mention quite a few rental properties.  The service route's on the fridge, but there are copies of the route and permits in the trucks. They're parked over at the office."

"Chickenpox?" O'Neill says.  "Do you have a ten year old gardener, Sheppard?"

"No, sir.  Bobby Dale is 35.  But he ran the dunking booth and made balloon animals for the kids at the county fair last week.  Must have caught it from one of them."  John spots Rodney checking the glands in his neck and says, "Knock it off, Rodney.  You had the chickenpox when you were a kid."  At Rodney's surprised look, he adds, "You told me you were cooped up with Jeannie and the two neighbor kids for a week, and how - let me see - 'mundane they were in their inanity'.  Remember?"  Turning back, John adds, "We have little JoeJoe until his grandmother gets here tomorrow afternoon, and we're dog sitting until Sunday."

"Tutoring," Rodney mutters.

"Yes," John agrees.  "Can't forget the Calculus and Trigonometry drop-in sessions.  To be fair, they have been lighter the last couple of weeks, but mid-terms are right around the corner, so..."

"Jesus," O'Neill exclaims.  "I agreed to this for some peace and quiet.  Maybe a little mayoring."  The General considers their list of duties and asks, "Can I use your phone?"

John nods.  O'Neill dials and it isn't long before he's barking instructions.  "Harriman?  I need you at my coordinates pronto.  Bring Mitchell, Teal'c, and Carter.  And your gear."  Without waiting for a reply, he hangs and smiles at John and Rodney.  "So.  Anywhere good to eat around here?  I hear McKay was going on about biscuits."

~*~*~

Four figures beam into John's backyard.  Teal'c, Mitchell, and Carter are armed to the teeth, while a nervous-looking Walter Harriman stands behind them clutching a P-90.  Teal'c and Carter silently evaluate how best to storm the innocuous looking house while Mitchell helps Harriman redo his TAC vest.  Carter makes for the back doors, and signals Teal'c and Mitchell to each take a side, while Harriman takes cover behind a large azalea bush.

The doors fly open and Colonel Samantha Carter bursts in, her P-90 ending up aimed at the General's chest.

"What took you so long, Carter?" O'Neill asks.  "Teal'c?  Mitchell?  Get in here!"

"What's going on, sir?" Carter asks, her voice tight.  Mitchell looks around and rolls his eyes, while Teal'c stands stiffly, looking decidedly nonplussed.  "Harriman said there was a situation."

"Here's the situation," Jack says.  He turns to John and Rodney.  "Colonel Sheppard?  Meet your new garbage man, tree trimmer, and math tutor."

"Excuse me, sir?" choruses everyone but Teal'c, who's watching JoeJoe stare up at him with big, round eyes.  The toddler stares for a full minute (probably the longest he's been still since birth) before he squeals and starts to climb Teal'c like a tree.  Teal'c ignores him as best he can and concentrates on moving flash grenades and extra ammunition out of his reach.

"I'm too old for this shit," O'Neill states matter-of-factly.  "I was told to get Sheppard whatever he needed to ship off to Atlantis.  Well, he needs you guys.  Teal'c, you're handling garbage and recycling.  You get to drive a special truck and a make a lot of noise.  You like that, right?"

Teal'c slowly closes his eyes and inclines his head.

"Mitchell.  You're from the heartland.  You're used to chopping down trees and stuff."

"Sir," Mitchell objects, "I'm from  _Kansas_."

"They don't have trees in Kansas, Mitchell?" O'Neill demands.

"Well... _some_ , sir, but-"

"Good enough," Jack says, throwing up a hand to forestall further argument.  "And Sam knows math.  What else?"  O'Neill turns to Sheppard.  "Got any other loose ends?"

Everyone turns to face the backyard after an uncertain voice asks, "Is it safe to come in, sir?"

O'Neill barks, "Harriman!  Get in here!"  The Sergeant is at his side a second later.  "Harriman, you're good at taking notes and filling out forms and running meetings and such, yeah?"  Not waiting for a nod, he says, "Great!  Then you can run all the administrative crap."

"And what will you be doing, sir?" Carter asks.

"Mostly fishing, I think.  I don't have to start mayoring until, what, Monday, John?"

John takes great amusement in watching the soldiers snipe at the General once they realize that he's serious about their assignments in Citrus Hill.  "So where are you all staying?" Rodney asks.

"I've got a rental that I can lease short-term to the DOD," John offers, "but it's only a two bedroom, sir."

After consideration, O'Neill says, "Mitchell, you and Teal'c can share a room.  Carter, you take the other.  I'm assuming there's a couch Harriman can use?"  At John's nod, he continues, saying, "I'll bunk here with Sheppard."

"What, you don't want to stay with your men?" Cam asks.

"Are you kidding?  You know how bad you two are going to smell after dealing with garbage and tree trimming and whatever else all day?  No thanks.  And Carter," he says, pausing when she narrows her eyes, "snores like a bandsaw," he concludes, grinning at the laughter that ensues.

O'Neill briefs Carter, Teal'c, Mitchell, and Harriman further while John fetches keys.  He's lucky the rental shares a fence line with his own property, because he's not interested in handling frantic calls about armed soldiers walking through town.  He sends the foursome through the French doors and across the backyard.  Harriman starts to clamber over the fence, but is stopped by Teal'c, who examines it briefly before flattening a section with a single well-placed kick.

"We'll pay for that," O'Neill says promptly, and John wonders if he can get a total remodel out of the ordeal. Maybe he'll let Rodney talk to that Teal'c guy...

John calls Laura and explains about being recalled for active duty starting Monday.  He lets her know that there are going to be people helping out.  She doesn't ask any questions, even when he gives her Harriman and O'Neill's military email addresses. 

When he hangs up, O'Neill is asking about food again.  John pries Rodney away from his work laptop and agrees that JoeJoe should bring his slinky with them, and they walk to Skeeters to introduce the General to the niceties of Southern food and hospitality.

~*~*~

Saturday morning rolls around and John wakes up to O'Neill's voice as he tries to reason with a small child.  He musses a kiss into Rodney's neck, then slips out to watch the debate:  O'Neill's trying to convince him to eat cereal, while JoeJoe chants for 'pancakes!'

"I'll make you pancakes, JoeJoe," John says.  "Coffee?"

"Oh, god, yes," Jack replies.  John starts a pot and grabs the ingredients for their carbohydrate-laden breakfast.  As he's stirring in the eggs, he spies JoeJoe dancing out of the corner of his eye.

"JoeJoe, did you go potty when you got up?"

JoeJoe just grabs himself and dances a little more urgently.  "Sir, I hate to ask..." John says with a smile that gets bigger as he watches O'Neill recognize the issue.

Jack swats his ear and says, "Carter?  Harriman?" before realizing he's not wearing a radio. 

"I don't think he can wait," John smirks, "Sir."

O'Neill rolls his eyes and picks the youngster up with a sigh as he stalks off to bathroom duty.

JoeJoe's potty song wakes Rodney, and the foursome polish off their pancake breakfast, with O'Neill complaining about potty duty like it's hand-to-hand.  Miss Alberta, Bernice's mother, calls at 10am to say she'd gotten in late the night before, and that Pastor Warren will be bringing Bernice home a little after noon.  Alberta wants to get her daughter situated before the little one comes home, so they arrange to bring JoeJoe home around 2pm.  "You still skinny as a nail, sugar?" she asks John.

"Yes, ma'am," John says with a blush that's nearly deep enough to be heard through the phone.

"Well, I've got a few of the girls comin' over with food, and your Uncle Jessup started some pork ribs last night, so you'd best be bringin' your appetite.  And don't be late with my grandbaby."

"Yes, ma'am," he assures her before hanging up.  "Your Grandma can't wait to see you, JoeJoe," he says, fussing with the little boy's hair. 

"Everything all right?" Rodney asks.

"Yeah, but I think the reception at Bernice's is gonna put last Tuesday's get together to shame."

John and Rodney manage to wrangle JoeJoe into a bath and keep him entertained until time to take him home.  O'Neill begs off in favor of going to Skeeters to scare up information on local fishing holes, so John and Rodney pack JoeJoe into the truck and drive over to Bernice's place.

There are so many cars that John has to park a block away.  He gets JoeJoe out and the boy is off like a shot, sprinting for home.  John and Rodney walk more leisurely, keeping an eye on JoeJoe as he runs up to his front door and rings the bell.  When the door opens, JoeJoe's squeals are almost overwhelming as he spots his grandmother.

"Miss Alberta?" John greets as he wipes his feet and walks in.  He's immediately engulfed in strong arms the color of warm chocolate, and hugged and kissed like he's just returned from the war. 

"And this must be your doctor that Bernice told me about," Alberta says, squashing Rodney to her ample bosom.  "At least this one has some meat on his bones.  Well, John, you know everybody," she says, gesturing to the folks filling the house, and soon Rodney is getting pulled into more hugs.  He usually gets an introduction, but a couple of times John is too caught up in reminiscing to remember to do the honors.

John and Rodney can't turn around without being offered some sort of food.  John names the dishes that Rodney doesn't recognize, and advises him on which to try.  Finally, plates laden with food, they find Bernice enthroned in an overstuffed recliner in the living room.  JoeJoe is curled up at her side reliving his adventures with John and Rodney.

The party is still in full swing when John and Rodney start to make their way to the door three hours later.  Miss Alberta intercepts them on the porch, and quizzes Rodney on his job prospects, how long they've been together, and his thoughts on children and marriage.  Apparently pleased with his answers, Alberta takes his hand and declares, "Baby, you know he owns the garbage and recycling company?   _And_  he's the Mayor!  My boy is a  _good_  catch."

John promises to see everyone after church in the morning, and they make their getaway and head home.  O'Neill's not there, so they take a leisurely stroll to Skeeters, where they find him holding court with the locals.  When they get back, there's a message from the Pembertons that they're home safely, and asking them to bring Jethro to breakfast at Skeeters.

~*~*~

Sunday morning starts off with John and Rodney wrapped around each other.  John wakes up first and lets his hands roam for a few minutes before he slips them into Rodney's boxers, gently stroking his morning erection.  Rodney stretches, waking up with a moan and leaning into John's hand.

After a good-morning kiss, John pulls Rodney's boxers down and takes him in his mouth.  Rodney moans and thrusts, making John back off to hiss, "Hey, O'Neill's right next door."  Rodney nods his acknowledgement, but can't stifle his moans as John plays with his foreskin and nibbles on his balls.  John's tongue and tight mouth quickly bring Rodney to ecstasy, thrusting his hips as he sends wave after wave of milky fluid down John's throat. 

Coming back to Earth, Rodney says, "Good morning to you, too," tasting himself as he draws John into a kiss.

Before he can return the favor, John hops out of bed.  "Come on.  We're gonna be late."

"Late for what?"

John leans down and pets Jethro, reminding Rodney of their breakfast appointment at Skeeters.  "Do we have time for a pot of coffee?" Rodney asks as John opens the bedroom door.

O'Neill's on the other side.  "Yeah, Sheppard.  Do we have time for a pot of coffee?"

"Oh, god," John groans.

"By the way, Sheppard?" Jack says as he trails John to the kitchen.  "I'm adding 'within earshot' to our earlier conversation about the enlisted and the scientists.  Deal?"

"Yes, sir," John mutters as he fumbles with the filters.

~*~*~

They walk to Skeeters with Jethro at their heels, ignoring the looks that Jack is getting in his combat fatigues.  As they step in, Jethro spots Frederick and Ethel Pemberton at a booth in the back and starts whining impatiently.  Rodney drops his leash, freeing him to waddle over with his tail wagging ecstatically.

"Oh, I think you boys have spoiled him.  He looks like he's gained five pounds," Ethel says as Jethro wriggles under the table to collapse on Mr. Pemberton's feet.

John hugs them and reintroduces Rodney as they scoot into the booth.  Jack decides to take one of the stools at the bar.

"Who's the officer?" Frederick asks.

"That's General Jack O'Neill, sir."

"You're not in trouble, are you, son?" Mr. Pemberton asks.

" _Frederick_!" Ethel exclaims, batting at her husband's hand.  "Of  _course_  John isn't in trouble.  He's always been a good boy."

John grins, feeling like he's five years old again.  He unconsciously looks for Miss Melanie, to make sure he doesn't get his ear tweaked.  John steals a glance at Rodney before turning back to them.  "No, ma'am.  Not in any trouble," he says, ignoring Mrs. Pemberton smug look at her husband.  "But I do have some news."

Ethel Pemberton looks at John and Rodney with a furrowed brow.  "You're not moving away, are you?"

"No, ma'am," John says.  "But I  _do_  have to go out of town for a couple weeks."

Fred Pemberton nods over to O'Neill at the counter.  "This guy?"

"Actually, no," John says.  "I'm going to work with Rodney.  General O'Neill is staying to help out while I'm gone."

Mr. Pemberton starts to say something, then stops.  "You mean to say that you have a  _Major General_  at your disposal, son?" he finally asks. John and Rodney nod and Fred chuckles.  "Did you take over the Joint Chiefs while we were gone, boy?"

It's John and Rodney's turn to laugh.  "No, sir," Rodney replies.  "He's coming to work on some very important projects with me."

"Just so's you aren't moving away," Ethel says, sipping her coffee.

"No, ma'am.  We've had that talk," Rodney says, taking John's hand.  "John's place is here." 

"Good," Fred and Ethel say in unison, Ethel beaming at the younger couple.  "When you get back you can come over and see the photos we took."  She holds up a bag brimming with rolls of film (destined for the Citrus Hill General Store's photo counter).  "Where are you going?"  This last is addressed to her husband as he starts to get up.

Fred points at the counter seating with his hat.  "Gonna go meet John's General.  Maybe swap some war stories," he says, shuffling off to meet Jack, who is again surrounded by locals.

Ethel rolls her eyes.  "Like he didn't do enough of that on our cruise.  It was plumb full of old fools talking about the dang-blasted war."

Her husband turns back, dipping down to kiss her.  "Yes, but I'm  _your_  old fool, sweetheart."  With a wink to the boys, he turns back and sidles up to Jack O'Neill at the bar, where they're soon talking like old friends.

Shaking her head with a smile, Ethel turns her attention to the menu.  "Where is Skeeter, anyway?  That cruise didn't have a lick of good food.  They said the chef was a Southern boy, but the biscuits weren't fit to chuck to the fish, bless his heart."

~*~*~

After breakfast with the Pembertons, John and Rodney say goodbye to O'Neill and go to John's place to pack.  After throwing his duffle into the back of his truck (the military can rent cars for their people.  They're  _not_  driving his truck), he follows Rodney home.  John, anxious about tomorrow, can't settle anywhere until Rodney guides him to the bedroom and distracts him with a blowjob.

Even with Rodney's sated and snoring next to him, John can't sleep.  Around 2am, he gets up to use the bathroom, tucking himself behind Rodney when he comes back.

"Everything okay?" Rodney asks sleepily.

John presses a kiss to Rodney's neck and says, "Tell me about Atlantis..."

 


End file.
